


Remember (Before I forget)

by LoudVoice



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alive Tommy, F/M, Gen, Recovered Memories, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 19:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoudVoice/pseuds/LoudVoice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two months ago he lost his memory. For two months he has only remembered things from up to six months before the Gambit sank. He's walked, talked and acted like 'Ollie'. But it's all coming back to him now. AU - Tommy lives</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [It's Okay to Be Afraid (but things will never be the same)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130222) by [Abbie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abbie/pseuds/Abbie). 



> A.N. : This was an idea by Abbie which she posted first on Tumblr but since then has written some amazing drabbles and posted them as the series "Leave out All the Rest" here on AO3.
> 
> The idea captured my imagination - especially considering how Oliver would act towards the people around him -like the 'Ollie' of old - but I was mostly intrigued by the aftermath. So here's the story about the consequences that Oliver faces when he remembers who he (really) is now, after having been 'Ollie' for two months.
> 
> Also please note, in this story Tommy is alive, so it's firmly AU.
> 
> Hope you enjoy

 

 

The headache started late in the evening and got stronger as the night wore on. At first he thought it was the booze but then he was by no means a lightweight. The strobe lights in the club and the heavy bass music had only felt slightly irritating at first but an hour later the pain had intensified and his head felt like it was about to explode.

He resented that they had to call it a night so early. Oliver Queen didn't leave a club until he had deemed the night a success which translated into a couple of model lookalikes gracing his lap and a lot of alcohol making its way through his system.

But the pain was becoming unbearable.

* * *

He barely made his excuses to several lovely ladies that had crowded around his VIP table and left the club amid a chorus of regretful female voices.

His driver – the one who really made him uncomfortable with all the knowing, mature looks- took him home. Oliver didn't have enough energy to question the guy's –Dougal? Something like that anyway- worried look. Instead he tried to breathe through the pounding ache behind his eyes.

When he reached the manor that night his only thought was to take a couple of painkillers and go to sleep, hoping that the headache would be gone by morning.

Which it didn't.

Unfortunately, it was the same pain that woke him up.

All through breakfast and the drive to QC –he was doing that apparently, but he still wasn't used to that after two months- his temples pounded in time with his heartbeat.

Getting out of the elevator he purposefully ignored his secretary's greeting and the thoughts of the previous one he had, before she moved back to her IT position eighteen floors down from where he was. He sat behind his desk ordering Mrs. Fitzhughes to hold his calls and leave him in peace -or pain as the case was. The middle-aged, austere woman sighed in exasperation and did just that.

At that point even moving his eyeballs hurt and he couldn't help but liken this to one of the worst hangovers he ever had. Obviously Mrs. Fitzhughes thought it was something like that. He let his head fall back against the back of the chair and closed his eyes, willing the pain to go away. It wasn't working.

Dimly he registered his driver-bodyguard entering his office. For some reason Oliver didn't feel Diggle's presence as much of an intrusion as he usually did. Probably because the pain had reached debilitating proportions.

"Where does Felicity keep those teabags she raves about?" he groaned hoarsely, desperate for anything to help him get rid of the headache.

He didn't notice at first how there was no reply to his question, because it felt in fact like the whole world had gone quiet. For a moment the pain swelled in a sharp, piercing stab behind his right eye. Then like an assassin, swiftly and silently, it started receding.

Oliver groaned in relief and opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling. Despite the quickly receding pain, he felt disoriented. Not unlike the time he'd woken up to find Barry Allen in the basement. Carefully he brought his head down and stared at Diggle.

The man was looking back at him strangely, his brow furrowed. Oliver's sluggish brain recalled he had asked him a question about tea.

"What?" Oliver prompted.

"Oliver?" At the sound of the man's voice, Oliver's eyes narrowed and then widened in shock. His heartbeat accelerated. He barely registered Diggle repeating his name as wave after wave of memories crashed in his mind.

Diggle. His bodyguard. His driver. His friend and brother in arms.

The man who had stood by his side against all odds, who had believed in Oliver. Who had joined him in his quest for justice.

Oliver inhaled through his nose, but failed to slow down his breathing. It was coming out in panting gasps now, as he remembered the past two months and how he'd reverted back to his old self.

The one who had never stepped foot on the Queen's Gambit. He'd gone back to being the Oliver Queen of old who knew nothing of responsibility and everything about partying.

Looking back at Digg, Oliver barely managed to shake his head at his friend's offer for help.

He remembered now. Remembered everything.

Two months ago there'd been a car crash and he'd forgotten; Forgotten who he'd become. What he'd become.

Diggle.

Diggle had tried to be there after the accident. He'd tried to help him but Oliver had quickly shut him down, he remembered now.

_"Oliver-"_

_"That should be Mr. Queen, right? Last time I checked I'm your boss."_

_"Your mother is my boss."_

_"Same difference, but I'd prefer Mr. Queen if you don't mind."_

_Of course._ Mr. Queen _, you_ really _don't want to do this."_

_"Have a night out on the town? Sure, I do."_

_"Do you think it's good for the CEO of Queen Consolidated to be caught for the third night in a row leaving a club out-of-his-mind wasted?"_

_"You really need to relax, Dougal-"_

_"Diggle."_

_"Yeah, whatever. Chill. I don't appreciate the judgmental undertones from the hired help."_

Oliver groaned at the memory of his friend's face at that and how the older man had stopped trying to reach him several similar failed attempts. The disappointment in the man's eyes had unsettled him at first, but the old Oliver had of course brushed it off and didn't even bother getting his driver's name right after the man stopped trying to instigate conversations in the car.

He snapped his eyes to the man in question who was standing rigidly across the room. Oliver opened his mouth several times but then closed it not knowing what to say. Oliver had reduced Diggle to a bodyguard, a token fixture in a room where he was. Nothing more than a hired shadow. And he had stayed.

"Diggle…"

At that Digg's expression snapped from worried to surprised and then to hopeful.

Pushing back from the desk Oliver stood quickly on his feet. "I'm sorry," he told Diggle, hoping he would understand the urgency and sincerity behind the words.

"You remember?" Diggle asked simply.

"Yeah," Oliver replied, his voice hoarse with regret.

"Finally," Digg offered with a big smile on his face that made Oliver think for a moment that everything would be as simple as that. Then Digg's smile fell, becoming slightly forced. "I never realized how much of an asshole you were before the island," came the harsh but not unwarranted statement. Oliver closed his eyes in defeat.

While he'd wished many time that his years on the island had never happened, he had never wished to go back to his old self. That devil-may-care, irresponsible version of himself who disregarded the serious things in life as inconvenient nuisances.

"You are ten minutes late for the Marketing review meeting in my office, Mr. Queen," Isabel's irritated voice rang out as the woman in question entered the room and stood rigidly glaring at him.

Unwanted reminders ghosted in his mind about how he'd managed to ruin what little credibility he'd earned as a CEO in two short months. Isabel didn't like pre-island Oliver any more than Digg did apparently, and though this fell right into his initial plan to throw her off the scent about who he really was he inwardly cringed at her appearance right then.

His mind was swimming with thoughts and questions. "I'm sorry, Isabel but I think we need to reschedule. An emergency has come up and I have to leave immediately," he offered the valid but vague excuse, glancing at Digg who was nodding in approval.

Isabel's shoulders straightened at that and she fixed her eyes on him, searching his face while Oliver remained as stoic as he could. After a few seconds she offered a small, feminine smile. "I'm glad you're back, Oliver. I'll reschedule with Mrs. Fitzhughes," she said before walking out the way she'd come, but not before she smiled at him again over her shoulder. Oliver's cringe reached his face this time. She'd figured him out.

He looked out through the glass wall at her walking away from his secretary's desk. That's when it hit him.

Felicity.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Oliver’s head fell forward and he brought a hand up to cover his eyes.

“What did I do?” he asked Digg.

“If you remember enough to apologize to me, then I don’t have to tell you how you treated her,” Diggle’s tone was hard, protective. He couldn’t blame him for it.

Raising his head, Oliver stared at Diggle, pleading with him to understand. To forgive. “I need to hear it. I need you to say it out loud.” 

With an expression fitting to a righteous executioner rather than a friend, Digg nodded. “You tried to flirt with her at first, back when she tried to talk to you and help. You ignored her and I think you did because she made you uncomfortable. You know that look she has? The one that says she expects better from you? She shot it at you once or twice. When you realized you weren’t getting the response you wanted you started ignoring her and then you moved to borderline bullying, until she talked to your mother and moved back to her old job.”

As Digg relayed the cut and dry version of what he’d done the corresponding memories flashed like a movie in Oliver’s mind. He remembered how Felicity’s face had lit up when he first came into the office after the accident. How her smile had vanished when he greeted her with a well-practiced pick up line and a smile he used to think would guarantee an easy lay. He even remember his own godforsaken thoughts at seeing her for the first time. How he’d inwardly preened at the emotion in her eyes when she looked at him. How he’d congratulated himself on getting another woman to fall for him.

Oliver groaned at the memories and walked to the window staring outward at the city and getting lost in thought.

Felicity. He’d treated her like she was no one of importance to him when in truth she was one of his lifelines -if not the only one he had- when the world crashed around him time and time again.

His chest tightened as he forced himself to think back on exactly what he’d done. An image of her face set in disappointment came to him.

_“Would you like to review the Queen Charity Event guest list, Mr. Queen?” He had made her call him that in a conversation as dismissive and condescending as the one he’d had with Digg._

_“No, but I’d love some help with this calendar thing that holds my appointments.”_

_Her face lit up at the prospect of helping him understand technology and she moved around the desk and next to his chair, bending to grab the mouse. As soon as she did, he covered her hand with his and lowered the tone of his voice._

_“Mark tonight’s dinner as ‘Date with the gorgeous Ms. Smoak,” he said and smiled charmingly when her eyes snapped to his._

_Without a word she straightened quickly and walked away, turning before she reached the door to pierce him with a sad look. “I think you can manage your schedule just fine by yourself, Mr. Queen,” she said in a low voice._

_“Yeah, you’re not very good at this apparently.”_

Oliver remember how his bruised ego had made him speak so dismissively at her. How from that day on he’d treated her with increasing abruptness. Her greeting each day had been a little less sincere in its perkiness until it stopped being joyful altogether and instead an efficient and business-like mask settled on her features every time she saw him. And then she’d gone away.

Suddenly, Oliver couldn’t stand still. He refused to dwell on how the look in her eyes had faded; the one that swirled with the emotion he had never dared name but cherished its existence.

“I need to see her,” he stated, facing Digg and then striding determinedly to the door.

“I don’t’ think it’s a good idea, Oliver,” Digg replied apprehensively, following him.

“I need to explain. She needs to know I remember.”

“Oliver!” Digg’s hand on his bicep turned him around so they were face to face. “You haven’t been yourself for the last two months. At least not the person Felicity and I have known. Think about that for a moment. Think about what you’ve been like and how it affected the people around you and then think if charging ahead is the best option.”

“I need her to know…”

At that Digg got closer to Oliver, angrily holding his gaze. “You _need_  to start thinking about someone else other than yourself. You’ve been an asshole to everyone and I get that you were confused, but what you’ve been like recently?” Diggle sighed in frustration and stepped back. “She’ll forgive you. I forgive you. I know it’s not who you are now. I don’t know if she can forget though. I can but Felicity…”

“That’s why I need her to know. That’s not who I am” the urgency hadn’t faded even at the face of Digg’s anger. With a defeated sigh Diggle motioned him to go on and Oliver didn’t think twice about getting in the elevator.

He was impatient and apprehensive as the numbers counted down to her floor. As soon as the doors opened he was out in a rush making his way down the familiar hallways of the IT department until he reached her door.

He stopped then, suddenly uncertain of what he’d say until he heard the sound of laughter coming from behind the closed door. Familiar laughter, both male and female. He opened the door without knocking striding in with a frown only to stop short at the sight that greeted him.

Tommy was sitting on the edge of Felicity’s desk cradling a to-go coffee cup while Felicity had a similar one half-way to her lips. Both straightened and jumped as he walked in, their previous open expression closing off and transforming into guarded, fake ones.

“Ollie! How are you buddy? I heard last night was a bust,” Tommy’s look turned into a commiserating grimace while he rounded the desk to come and pat him on the back.

Oliver turned to fix his eyes at Felicity once more, only to see any trace of surprise and that momentary flash of pain he had seen, gone from her face to be replaced with cool efficiency. “Is there anything the IT department can do for you, Mr. Queen? I can call Jessica to assist you with anything you might need.”

Oliver glanced away at the mention of the pretty intern. He remembered he’d requested that she’d become his exclusive tech support person a month or so ago. He’d even had Felicity arrange it.

Steeling himself he turned his best Arrow look at Tommy and stated seriously. “I need to talk to Felicity. Privately.”

“Ollie?” Tommy squeezed his shoulder questioningly.

That name, that childish nickname rang in his head as an audible reminder of everything he’d been for the last two months. Everything he wanted to escape. “My name is Oliver,” he bit out, a part of him regretting he was so abrupt with his best friend but the compulsion to renounce that name and all it represented was too strong. “Never call me Ollie again,” he said, looking into his best friend’s eyes meaningfully.

Slowly but surely, Tommy’s mouth curled into a smile growing until it conveyed his happiness. “Sure thing, buddy.” At Oliver’s steady look, Tommy glanced back at Felicity who hadn’t taken her eyes off Oliver and stepped towards the door. “Yeah, I’ll leave you two…catch up. Felicity?”

It irked Oliver that Tommy had to ask Felicity if it was okay to leave them alone, but he knew it was his fault. One of the many consequences of the past few months. Even so it hurt. The memories that flashed in his mind even more so, of why Tommy had to be so protective of her against Oliver. Tommy had been the one to get her out of many tough spots in the beginning when Oliver had tried some aggressive flirting with his then secretary. Tommy had been the one to firmly put Oliver in his place any time Oliver had made a disrespectful comment about her.

Oliver let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding when Felicity nodded at Tommy and then looked down as their now mutual friend walked out.

He wasn’t one for stalling difficult conversation but he found himself looking around the office and noticing how it hadn’t changed from the first time he had come down here all these years ago. He willed his mind to find an opening line, something to say so he could start apologizing other than ‘I’m sorry’ since it sounded so simple, so much less than what he wanted to say. Felicity as always jumped to his rescue.

“W-what can I do for you, Mr. Queen,” she offered shakily, and Oliver’s eyes snapped to her once more.

She wasn’t looking back at him, but instead had focused her gaze somewhere on his shoulder as if afraid of what she’d find if she looked in his eyes. Or maybe she was that disgusted with him. And the way she’d said his name…When once her tone in pronouncing it was teasing now he heard a wooden undertone behind it and hated it.

A familiar inability to express what he was feeling to her had him uttering unthinkingly, “Felicity…”

At the sound of her name her eyes finally snapped to his once more. Her brows furrowed in confusion as she stared at him searchingly, in a way very similar to how Tommy had looked. He fought the urge to fidget or act on any of the thoughts compelling him. He wanted to walk around the desk and kneel before her. He wanted to shout at her that it was him; her Oliver. The one who was sorry and not the asshole he’d been acting like.

But he didn’t know if any of it would help.

“What did you call me?” she finally expressed her confusion, as if his answer would explain why he was rigidly standing, staring at her in her office.

It hit him right then. She’d called him Mr. Queen, but he’d called her Felicity. Diggle had remarked upon that once before the accident. How Oliver unknowingly adopted a different softer tone when saying her name. Had she noticed that, too?

For a moment he weighed his past reservations on revealing too much of what he felt against showing her now that he remembered. But the past two months and what he’d done to their friendship – to their relationship- had him dismissing the dilemma out of hand.

“Felicity,” he said again, looking steadily back at her and hoping this time she saw.

She blinked once. And then again and again. With a pang of sorrow and regret he spotted the moisture gathering in her eyes before she ducked her head.

She cleared her throat visibly gathering herself. “Yes?” she whispered, as if bracing for disappointment. 

In a rush the words he couldn’t find before spilt from his mouth. “I need to talk to you. I need to apologize-“

Her head snapped up as well as her hand opened in the universal ‘Stop right there’ sign. With surprise he saw that the turmoil in her eyes was now replaced by a closed off stormy expression he’d never seen on her before. “Not here. Whatever you need to talk to me about can be done somewhere else,” she stated meaningfully with a hint of challenge as if she was testing him. “I’d rather not give people more reason to gossip than I already have,” she added firmly.

The ache in his chest intensified. “At the club then?”

“Verdant? I doubt they’ll serve you this early in the morning. Then again your sister is the manager,” Felicity added bitterly but winced afterwards as if regretting her words but he considered the dig well-deserved. She kept her head high, her gaze unwavering. She was still testing him. Testing his memories or lack thereof.

“I was thinking more along the lines of the basement of Verdant rather than the bar,” he offered what he thought was solid proof that he remembered.

Even though he knew she had already guessed that his memories were back, her eyes still widened infinitesimally, a softer emotion breaking through her hard exterior for a single moment. But then it vanished replaced with…reserve and mistrust.

Identifying the emotions swirling in her eyes Oliver looked away feeling lost. He thought he could fix this but now he wasn’t sure. She had never looked at him like that. Felicity was always open and trusting to him. And the trust went both ways. In the life and death situations they dealt with every day she was his cornerstone and he hoped he was hers. Seeing her doubt him, knowing he was the cause of it ate at him.

At last her reply came. “Yeah. Let’s meet at the basement after work.”

“No,” he answered instantly, turning back to her, knowing he couldn’t wait until tonight. He had to fix this somehow.  “During lunch. We can grab something on the way there if you’re hungry,” he softened his abrupt tone.

She paused for a moment, considering him. “Fine. Twelve-thirty. I’ll meet you and Digg there.”

Didn’t she trust him to without Digg being there? He wondered for second before sighing at the thought. Of course she didn’t. Why would she? Besides, it was only natural for all three of them to be there.

Finally he nodded and took a moment to look at her before he turned to leave.

That moment was all it took for him to realize that what hurt the most was that she was looking back at him as if he were a stranger.

* * *

 

Walking down the stairs to the basement felt both familiar and surreal to Oliver. He felt as if he hadn’t been here for much longer than two months, but then experience made time flow oddly.

Digg settled against one of the tables while Oliver walked around as if reacquainting himself with the space and objects.

“What did you do while I was…”

“Off partying and having sex with super models?” Digg supplied drily, disapproval heavily coloring his tone.

Oliver winced at the many memories that flashed in his mind of encounters with faceless women. His mouth twisted in distaste and then in regret when Felicity’s closed off expression settled above anything else in his mind.

“Yeah. While I was doing that.”

“We kept it up. I hooded up sometimes and went on patrol. Mostly so the Arrow would be seen around the city. Thankfully nothing serious came up. Though if it had, Felicity and I would’ve dealt with it,” Diggle said, the certainty in his tone belying a challenge. Oliver turned to him at that, seeing the hint of defiance in Digg’s eyes. “You doubt we could?” His friend openly asked raising his eyebrows.

Oliver turned to stare at the glass case containing the Arrow uniform. “No,” he answered quietly. “I’ve never doubted either of you.”

Before the conversation could go on, the buzz of the basement door echoed down to them and the click of heels on the metal stairs signaled Felicity’s arrival.

The thoughtful atmosphere in the lair changed. Or maybe it was just him who snapped in attention, Oliver thought as he watched Felicity walking past him to take her usual seat in front of the computers. She didn’t once look up at him.

“So,” she said, turning the chair towards them and crossing her arms in front of her. “I’m listening.”

At the blatant prompt for him to start talking Oliver opened his mouth but then closed it again looking away. It was disconcerting how again he wanted to say so much and then nothing came to mind.

“He remembered this morning,” Digg offered at Felicity, simultaneously giving Oliver an out.

“How?” she asked shortly, this time insisting with her eyes that Oliver was the one to reply.

He took a deep breath bracing himself for what was bound to become a very difficult conversation no matter how innocuous the first question was. “I got a headache. I’ve had it since last night. It got worse this morning and then I remembered. That’s it,” he finished, finding there wasn’t anything else to say about that.

“You should get a CAT scan,” Felicity offered but her tone lacked the worry there was…before. He mechanically nodded, closely watching her, trying to interpret her body language. “So, do you want to go back to Arrow things?” she asked as if that was all she had to say on that matter. “’Cause I don’t have anything for you at the moment. Digg probably told-“ she was turning to her computers in a business-like manner when he decided he had to speak up.

“Felicity. About…what I did these last couple of months-“

“Oh, yes,” she turned suddenly as if she’d been waiting, fury marking her features as she stood up. “Let’s talk about that. Do you remember what you’ve been doing for the last two months or is it one of those scenarios where you’ve conveniently forgotten what a complete  _asshat_  you’ve been to the people around you?” her voice rang out getting progressively louder.

He faced her anger unflinchingly, knowing he deserved whatever she said to him. “No, I didn’t forget what happened in-between.”

“Really? So you remember your exceptional performance as a giant douche. Do you remember treating Digg like crap? Never mind that you didn’t remember he was your friend, but as a simple employee do you remember treating him like he was inferior?”

“He apologized, Felicity,” Digg interrupted the tirade trying to give him a break Oliver didn’t think he deserved.

Here was his mirror; Felicity. Providing him the reflection of what he’d done that he couldn’t escape from. The one person he knew would lay it all out. No less than he deserved. Oliver thought back on all the times just after the accident where Diggle had tried to reach out only to be dismissed with an offhandedly offensive comment. It was true. Pre-island Ollie was an entitled douche and had acted like one.

“And you forgave him?” Felicity asked Digg not waiting for a reply before turning back to Oliver. “Even if Digg’s okay with that, I’m not. But let’s go back to recounting what you remember. How about Tommy? Your other best friend. The one who was trying to get his life back on track after his father leveled half the city. Do you remember getting him arrested for a prank? That worked wonders for his public image.” She was gesturing wildly now, a sure sign of her ire.  

“You care about him.” The words were out of his mouth before he knew it, and helplessly he watched as her expression turned stormier. It niggled at him since he saw Tommy in her office this morning and after thinking of how close the two had been for the last two months. Logically he knew they must have bonded over his accident and memory loss, but a part of him still wondered at their friendship. He remembered how Tommy had been so fiercely protective of her and what he’d said that one time as Ollie he’d rudely and suggestively asked him about Felicity. Though he believed there was nothing romantic going on between them, but that deeply hidden part of him still worried they’d become something more.

“Of course I care about him!” Felicity exploded in front of him. “Besides Digg he was the only one who understood this whole mess! He’s the one who kept an eye at you while you were out there all ‘I’m Ollie Queen!’” she mocked. “Tommy dragged your drunk ass home before the paparazzi and the police caught up to you after the  _fifth_  time you made the front page of a tabloid. Do you recall that?” Stepping up at him she poked a finger at the center of his chest repeatedly. “Tommy is the one I called when you were wasted outside my door, threatening to break it if I wouldn’t open so we could have sex.”

Oliver’s eyes widened in shock and behind him Diggle stirred. He kept his eyes on Felicity’s though. “I…I don’t remember that. How did I remember where you lived?”

“The mind works in mysterious ways, doesn’t it? Sober you’re an amnesiac douche, but pour two bottles of scotch down your throat and suddenly you remember where I live, and come over to shout out that you love me outside my door,” she yelled furiously, blinking back tears. “And the next morning lo and behold the douche is back!” She turned away from him then, leaving him gaping at her back, while she gathered her coat and bag. “Actually, you know what. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

Oliver stood there, his eyes following her as she ascended the steps. He made no move to stop her. Mostly because he couldn’t move, but also because he didn’t know whether he should.

Even if he stopped her what could he possibly say?


	3. Chapter 3

The silence that followed Felicity’s exit dragged on for what seemed like hours. Neither Oliver nor Digg moved from where they stood.

Felicity’s voice was ringing repeatedly in Oliver’s mind, his imagination recreating the scene she had described and replaying it over and over again.

He’d partied like the Ollie of old, not knowing better, but that wasn’t the worst part. That he could apologize for, or so he thought he could and that’s why he’d come in the foundry tonight. Ready and willing to beg for her forgiveness. But it wasn’t his behavior as Ollie that Felicity had to forgive apparently.

He distinctly remembered how bad things used to get when he’d gotten drunk before the island, but this time he didn’t just punch a paparazzi or pee on a policeman. No. His fucked up mind had decided it needed alcohol in order to remember something, anything.

And it had chosen to remember Felicity’s address.

His poor impulse control, further enabled by the alcohol had led him to stand outside her door in the middle of the night. While his mind was all too helpful in filling in the missing details with the worst case scenarios it could come up with, he wanted to know what had truly happened.

He needed to know how he’d told Felicity he loved her.

Just thinking the words, just imagining the scene and circumstances jolted him out of the stillness. Suddenly he couldn’t contain the nervous energy rushing through him. He turned blindly towards the stairs, his vague intent solidifying into purpose.

“Do  _not_  go after her, Oliver.” Digg’s hard voice echoed behind him, but it wasn’t enough to stop him

“I won’t. Not yet. I’ve got to see Tommy,” he called out over his shoulder, rushing up the steps to Verdant.

“Good luck with that,” Digg’s voice reached him just before the basement door shut.

 

******

 

Oliver found Tommy in the apartment he shared with Laurel and was extremely relieved when he found his friend alone. His mind in overdrive with thinking about what had happened with Felicity, he wasn’t sure he could deal with Laurel as well. Considering that as 'Ollie' he’d actually gone behind Tommy’s back and made a pass at Laurel –which ended up in her feeling extremely uncomfortable and him getting drunk…He grimaced.

Yeah. Thank God she wasn’t there.

Making a mental note to talk to her and apologize soon, he focused on the matter at hand as he silently followed Tommy and sank to a seat next to him.

“So. Am I assuming correctly that you remember now?” Tommy asked him, getting comfortable with an arm resting on the back of the couch and a knee bent towards Oliver.

“Yeah,” Oliver started, resting his elbows on his knees stiffly, unable to relax. “I need to know…”

“About Felicity.” Something in Tommy’s voice had Oliver turning his eyes to him where before he had been looking at the coffee table.

“She told me that I got drunk and went over by her place.”

“Is that the only thing she told you?” Tommy asked, side-eyeing him as he reached for a coffee mug he must have been nursing before Oliver arrived. 

With a spark of anger lighting inside him at Tommy’s evasion, Oliver felt the urgency returning. “No. You have to tell me what happened, Tommy. I need to know exactly what I did.”

“And what you said?” Tommy’s eyes twinkled knowingly but his expression remained serious.

“ _Especially_  what I said.”

The twinkle suddenly vanished, and Tommy’s next question came out almost harshly. “Why?”

Oliver knew he should be understanding in the face of Tommy’s protectiveness. He certainly could  _reason out_  why his friend and Felicity had bonded while he’d been busy being ‘Ollie’. Even so, he couldn’t help bristling at Tommy’s tone.

 “Because she’s  _mine_  to protect and I ended up hurting her,” he bit out, glaring at Tommy as if somehow all this was his fault.

He knew it wasn’t, but the thought that during the past two months Felicity probably needed protection from  _himself_  had him lashing out angrily.

“She’s yours to protect, or yours- period?” Tommy asked challengingly, apparently unmoved by his anger.

The challenge itself wasn’t surprising to Oliver given what he’d just said and had apparently admitted to while drunk, but he didn’t have time to play this game. “Tommy, I need to know,” he said again, unable to mask the pleasing undertone in his voice.

A look of understanding replaced the previous protective one on Tommy’s face, making Oliver relax slightly. “Okay, buddy. I get it. You need to know how badly you fucked up. But you also need to know a shitload of other things as well, which apparently has fallen onto me to inform you about.”

“I’m listening.”

“You remember what happened in-between right? It’s not like one of those freaky soapy things where you’re just back to your old self with no recollection of what went on?”

Oliver tilted his head to the side, the niggling feeling at Tommy and Felicity’s closeness returning. “Funny. That’s what Felicity asked as well.”

“Okay. Stop right there, Ollie,” Tommy started warningly, but Oliver cut him off.

“Don’t call me that,” he snapped.

“Fair enough. No more Ollie. And thank God for that. Now before I tell you about that night, we really need to talk about your Neanderthal tendencies about me and Felicity.”

Oliver opened his mouth to interrupt once more, unwilling to sit through the third lecture of the day, but apparently Tommy wasn’t going to be stopped.

“No. If you want a play-by-play of your idiocy, buddy then you have to shut up first because you need to hear this,” Tommy said, taking a deep breath. “I know you never meant for this to happen. It’s not your fault, I know that.”

Tommy’s eyes shone with compassion, lifting some of the weight that had settled on Oliver’s chest since he got his memories back. Nevertheless, Oliver braced himself, knowing there was a ‘but’ coming and sure enough…

“But… I never realized how much I actually liked who you’ve become until I got the old you back.”

And there it was. Everything that had come between him and Tommy, everything Oliver had been struggling to come to terms with ever since he got back from the island, wrapped up neatly in one little sentence. The pressure in his chest and behind his eyes grew until he had to blink to relieve some of it. Oliver dropped his eyes to the floor between his feet, trying hard to swallow the lump in his throat. He felt Tommy’s hand squeezing his shoulder in support. That somehow alleviated the mild sense of embarrassment he felt at showing what he felt.

They stayed like that for several moments, a study in silent friendship and support. After the tears had been blinked away and throats had awkwardly been cleared, Oliver finally brought his eyes to meet Tommy’s, motioning for him to go on, that he was strong enough to hear the rest of it.

“I had to be there for her,” Tommy began and after taking a deep breath at Oliver’s understanding nod, went on, “because she was there for me as well. Don’t get me wrong, at first I was kind of relieved that you’d forgotten all about the island and killing people. I know. You were doing things differently and we were cool after what happened. The thing is…I think deep down I never stopped missing how things were before. When you didn’t have secrets.”

“Tommy…”

“No. Let me finish. A small part of me missed things, yes. But apparently you’re not the only one who had changed and this? What happened? Made me see that. We’ve grown up,” Tommy exhaled and ran his hand through his hair in a seemingly frustrated manner. “And I’m getting off topic here, but really, Ollie? Thanks for that. Maybe it’s a small thing but I think one good thing to come out of this whole mess is that I get it now.”

“It’s not a small thing,” Oliver inserted thickly. It was huge. Even after the Glades, after he had saved Tommy, things between them had been strained. Laurel had chosen to be with Tommy and even with all that had happened Tommy had reluctantly forgiven him, but there was always the shadow of the events of that day between them. Having Tommy telling him that he…accepted him? It wasn’t a small thing at all.

“So…for the past two months having the old Ollie back? Not as great as I thought. I was sick to for a whole day after the first night we went out and Laurel had to make me soup. I ate  _Laurel’s soup_ , Oliver!” As Tommy had intended, Oliver felt a short laugh bubbling out. “You wanted to keep going though and I didn’t have the stamina to follow you. I guess we’re getting old, right? Anyway. After the first few nights you were out of the hospital Digg and I came to an agreement. We wouldn’t let you out of our sight as much as we could, because you seemed bent on being exactly like the same little shits we were seven years ago. So, I went out with you, drinking only water as you downed shot after shot.”

“I remember. I remember, Tommy. And thank you. For being there.”

“Yeah, I forgot you remember that stuff. Pun not intended. The point is…while all the party nights were difficult to handle, I was used to them. But Felicity wasn’t. I’d seen you before with all the random chicks in the clubs, but she hadn’t. Diggle told me about it and when you got your arm twisted to go back to work I was there the first day. I saw how getting your Ollie mojo back affected her. And I like her, Oliver.” When Oliver’s eyebrows shot up at that, Tommy waved him off dismissively. “Don’t even start on that bullshit. I like her. She’s my friend now and you need to accept that.”

“I’m okay with it. She’s my friend, too-“

“Yeah, not to rain on your parade at the Nile but she’s not just your friend and we both know that. Now that we’ve got that out of the way…Okay. You know what I thought to myself about becoming friends with her? I felt the need to be there for her not because she’s amazing –which she really is‒ but because I knew that by being there for her, I was being there for you. I knew that sooner or later you’d get your memories back, or that’s what I wanted to believe, at least. And once you did you’d appreciate me being there for her more than if I acted as your wing-man every time you got drunk and picked up chicks.”

And once again Tommy was right, Oliver thought. He really did appreciate Tommy befriending Felicity more so than if his friend had encouraged him in his nightly escapades. “Thanks, Tommy. Again,” he said, hoping his eyes conveyed how grateful he was and not how guilt he felt underneath it all. “I need to know. What happened that night?”

“Right. So, Smoaky and I are close. Really close. Laurel is strangely okay with it. She says that Felicity is a good influence, which I guess she is. We started texting each other after your first few days at the office and the second time you hit on her. Which wasn’t pretty. At all. Actually it was that first week when I went to hang out with her at her apartment for the first time. Just after you hit on Isabel and Felicity had rejected you for the second time.”

Oliver winced as the memory flashed through his mind. As Ollie he’d been inexplicably pissed off when Felicity hadn’t even smiled at the charming crap he’d plied her with. That day when he’d seen Isabel enter his office right after Felicity’s dismissal, he’d been quick to invade the woman’s personal space and sprout suggestive nonsense in her ear. An action that had spectacularly backfired in more ways than one, seeing as Isabel had coldly put him in his place, and Felicity had been silent for the rest of the day.

“From the look on your face I guess you now see how bad it was for her.”

“Yes. Go on.”

“Okay, I won’t tire you with any more specifics, but you get that Felicity and I are friends now, right? So, to the point. It was the night you went to Verdant to allegedly,” Tommy sarcastically gestured the quotes, “check out how Thea was managing your club, the one I told you I couldn’t come with, because I was having dinner with Laurel and her dad?” Oliver nodded. “Yeah, well at about two in the morning, Felicity called me. She was crying.” Tommy lowered his eyes as his voice hardened protectively. “She said you were at her door, threatening to break it down. I didn’t ask any questions, I just went over there, and there you were. Completely wasted.”

“I- I don’t remember that night. At all.I only remember waking up the next day with a hangover from hell.”

“Well, you wouldn’t. I think the amount of alcohol you had consumed could’ve killed a horse. The fumes nearly bowled me over when I got out of the elevator. You were sitting on the floor with a bottle in hand. The first question I asked was how you knew where Felicity lived and how you’d got in the building. Apparently the doorman knows you. He thinks Felicity is your girlfriend. Which was fitting really, the way you acted that night.”

Oliver closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Tommy, what did I say? Did I tell her…?”

“We’ll get to that. So, I asked a doctor about it afterwards. About how you had remembered some things. He said that even amnesiacs can remember stuff sometimes in dreams or in dream-like situations when the brain isn’t completely engaged. In this case emotions came to the surface, instincts kicked in, blah, blah blah. So there you were wasted, sitting on the floor with your back against her door, shouting at the top of your lungs for her to let you in. I let her know I was there and that I was taking you home, and I guess that was the first time in a while that she'd replied to anything you said, because when she told me okay you started shouting again.”

Oliver hadn’t opened his eyes, unwilling to see the reproachful expression that matched the narrative. “What did I say, Tommy?” he demanded.

“I knew you’d ask me this one day, so I have something to show you,” Oliver’s snapped open his eyes and watched as Tommy picked up a tablet and tapped on it a few times.

His chest tightening with trepidation, Oliver took the tablet when it was offered and looked down to see the frozen image of Felicity’s hallway. The frame showed both him on the floor and Tommy standing next to him, the angle indicating that whoever had shot had done so from somewhere across the hall from Felicity’s door.

“Don’t worry,” Tommy’s quiet voice made Oliver’s eyes return to his friend. “I have the only copy of that. Felicity made sure. Just press play.”

Rubbing his sweaty hand against his pants, Oliver took a deep breath and then tapped at the screen.

All at once the image on the screen came alive. The audio was surprisingly clear considering the image quality, and the vague thought that Felicity must have enhanced it crossed Oliver’s mind, before he focused on what was happening on screen.

An extreme drunk version of Oliver was sitting on the floor with his back against Felicity’s door, while Tommy was standing next to him, trying to coax him to get up.

“Come on, Ollie. Let’s get you home, buddy, to your nice, warm bed.”

“I bet F’licity has a warm bed. She won’t let me in.  _Why won’t you let me in_?” Oliver shouted suddenly. “I can warm your bed, you know. But it’s cold.  _You’re_ cold. Why are you being such a bitch? I know you want me! I’ve seen the way you look at me,” his self on the screen yelled again, making Oliver wince as he watched.

“Come on, buddy. You’re done for the night,” Tommy bent down and tried to haul Oliver’s drunk form by his armpits, but his hands were slapped away forcefully.

“No! She wants me. I know she wants me,” Oliver yelled towards the door. “And I want to have sex. With her.”

Tommy used the distraction, and as Oliver was cursing towards her door, he hauled up his friend and then smacked him at the back of the head. “You’re an idiot,” Tommy muttered, trying to direct them both towards the elevator.

Oliver was having none of it. At the smack, he pushed Tommy away, and then braced himself against the door, the fight draining out of him. “Why won’t you let me in, F’licity?” The previous shouts were replaced with a broken, lost tone now. “I want to come in.” Tommy tried once more to coax him away from the door, only to be pushed away again violently. Oliver turned to rest his cheek on the door, and then suddenly banged his fist against it. “I love you. I love you so damn much. Why won’t you let me in?” he called out, his voice breaking.

That time when Tommy tried to pry him away, a scuffle ensued. A stray punch hit Tommy’s face, who even so managed to shove his friend in the elevator even as Oliver struggled against him.

The video cut off just before the elevators doors closed.

“That’s it,” Tommy said in a low voice a few moments later.

Oliver closed his eyes, but even then he could see the images behind his eyelids. He could hear the words he’d said echoing in his head and could just imagine Felicity crying softly behind that door.

She hadn’t enhanced that part of the audio. She hadn’t wanted Tommy –or him- to know. But he did. He knew her. How could he not when he loved her? Did she doubt that it was true? Did she think that the alcohol had been talking that night? Or that his loss of memories had made him an asshole who took those words lightly?

Of course she did. It was partly true. So how could he convince her otherwise?

Dropping his head against the back of the couch, Oliver exhaled slowly.

“You have to talk to her,” Tommy suggested calmly.

“I know.”

“What are you going to say?”

Oliver sighed again. “I have no idea.”

“You love her.”

He turned his head to look at Tommy. “How do you know it wasn’t the booze talking?”

“I know you. You never said those words easily. Even as ‘Ollie’.”

“She doesn’t know that.”

“Then tell her again. As Oliver this time.”

Straightening on his seat, Oliver shook his head. “Do you think that will make it all better? Even if it did, I had reasons for staying away from her all this time.”

“It might not make everything okay, but it’s a start,” Tommy suggested, tilting his head to the side. “Look. The way I see it, you’ve hurt her by being ‘Ollie’. But even as the ‘Ollie’ who avoided feelings and commitment like the plague, you ended up telling her you love her outside her door. So, I guess what I’m saying is, that if you remembered you loved her even while having amnesia… well, you’re a goner, buddy.” Tommy clapped him on the shoulder.

Oliver let out a short laugh at the fake expression of pity on Tommy’s face, his thoughts however had the laugh fading quickly. “She didn’t open that door in the end.”

“She didn’t open the door for Ollie. Why doesn’t Oliver try his luck this time?”

Oliver left Tommy’s place with the video of his drunken declaration in his phone and with a promise to Tommy that he wouldn’t mess things up even more.

A promise he could only hope he would be able to keep


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry for the huge delay but I tried to make something I’d be happy with and I’m still not sure. For one I am impatient to get to the conversation and resolution in chapter five and no matter how hard I’ve worked on this it still seems a necessary evil in order to get us there.
> 
> So here, it may not be up to standards and seem filler-like but I had to dedicate some time to what Oliver is feeling in general before we delve into fixing his relationship with Felicity…
> 
> ——-Trigger warning——-
> 
> Please note —-Panic attacks mentioned/described within
> 
>  
> 
> So yeah…hope you enjoy. :)

While Oliver wanted to attempt to fix his relationship with Felicity right away, he knew he should give her space. He needed space himself and time to mull over all he had learned that day.

In theory the day he got his memories back after two long months should have been filled with relief and celebration. Instead it had turned out difficult and exhausting. He had no one to blame but himself, he knew that, but even so a part of him was angry. Granted, the anger was mostly directed at himself since he  _had_ been that kind of guy before the Gambit had gone down, but there was anger directed at the people around him as well.

Proving that he had changed wasn’t new to Oliver. On the contrary it was exactly what he’d been striving to do for the past two years, since his return from the island. However, seeing how everyone kept their distance after just two months of behaving like his old self left him feeling weary.

Did they still think him so fickle that he would truly revert back to being as spoiled and self-absorbed as he was, even now after his memory had returned? After two years of trying to prove that he was a different man now?

That night upon returning home and informing his mother and sister about his recovery, he saw that the answer to those question might be affirmative. Even though his mom and Thea were extremely happy and relieved that he had gotten his memories back, the way they looked at him had changed. They seemed…distant.

In his mind Felicity and Diggle were completely justified in being puzzled and not liking who he had been before, but he felt hurt that his family obviously felt that way. Sure, for his first year back he had tried to throw people off the scent by promoting a public persona in line with the one he had before the island, but he had struggled to turn that around since then. He’d undertaken the responsibility of being the CEO for Queen Consolidated, and had even done well. Even more than his public image though, he had strived to prove to his family that he had changed. That he was no longer a selfish bastard, but a caring brother, son and friend.

Which apparently hadn’t been enough, since just two months of acting like the Ollie of old had made people view him as a live grenade ready to explode any minute.

The unfairness of it all made something tighten in his throat, which was made worse after a few hours spent with his mother and Thea that night. The looks they shot him when they thought he wasn’t paying attention were enough to make him crave some solitude, so he quickly excused himself and went up to his room.

He changed and got ready for bed, going through the motions, his mind still trying to process all he had learned and remembered that day. He needed this time alone. He needed the time to come to terms with what had happened to him, what he had done. To look at the memories of the past two months through the eyes of ‘Oliver’ and understand what he had to do to fix the things he was responsible for breaking.

He got in bed not expecting to sleep any time soon. What he also didn’t expect was that the minute his breathing slowed down, the moment he pulled the memories of everything that had happened that day to the forefront of his mind, his heart would speed up. Faster and faster it beat until his breaths became pants and a vice tightened around his chest.

Thoughts of strategizing and fixing things flew from his head as he shot up and hunched his shoulders, trying to slow down his breathing. It didn’t work. Instinctively he got up and started pacing, somehow thinking that releasing some of the energy that was fuelling him would slow down his heart.

Wrong.

Unhelpfully, the memories bombarded his mind. Thinking back on what he’d done right after the accident he recalled how as Ollie he wasn’t so much troubled by the absence of memories when his condition was explained to him. He’d figured that even with seven years gone by, everything would be just as he’d left it and while he’d been confused at the changes around him, self-medicating through alcohol was the surefire solution he’d turned to.

Now though, as he relived the terrible sensation of having dark, unknown gaps in his mind he felt…adrift.  _Delayed reaction to past events_ , his brain provided, but that didn’t make his heart settle down or the tightness around his chest ease. Even the thought of  _her_ , the thought he’d always invoked when he’d lost the battle with his nightmares in the past, didn’t soothe him. For now the image of her face didn’t bring him peace. Instead he thought of all the ways he had screwed things up with her.

At that his breathing became labored, so he tried clearing his mind. Focusing on a landscape painting hanging on the wall above his bed, little by little he tried to steady himself.

He didn’t know how much time he spent like that. All he knew was that he felt every single second of it.

It felt like hours.

When he finally felt calm enough to move, he walked to his desk, picking up his phone on the way and then falling heavily on the chair.

Carefully he focused once more on what had happened to him. He  _had_  to think things through but first he needed to make sure he could handle it. Stubbornly, he recalled every time he’d been a dick to the people he cared about and waited for his heart to start racing again.

When it didn’t, he dropped his head back, closed his eyes and attempted to reason everything out.

/////

The shadows faded slowly around him, as the soft, lavender light of dawn filtered through the trees outside his windows. The room brightened until golden rays of sun invaded every corner of the room.

He was in the same place the dark of night had left him. He sat there on the desk chair and as the sunlight fell on him, one by one the shadows inside him scattered.

He’d kept the video playing on a loop for hours. Time and time again he heard himself telling Felicity – or more accurately her door- that he loved her until the echo of the words, the tone he’d used to say them had settled in his bones.

The alert of his battery getting low finally had him dropping the phone on the desk in front of him. Slowly, with eyes gritty from sleeplessness he looked around the room.  Everything around him held a memory of his life before the island, nothing betraying the man he thought he had become except the increased number of business suits in his walk-in closet.

And after the night he just had he decided this had to end.

Slowly, he got to his feet taking the time to stretch and get rid of the kinks the night of stillness had brought to his body.

He had things to do.

*******

When Oliver walked into Queen Consolidated later that morning with Diggle in tow, it felt like he hadn’t done so in ages.

With renewed purpose he walked into his office ready to get things back on track. One by one everything that had taken the backseat in his life would be put to rights. Starting with his company.

The next few hours flew by as he arranged emergency meetings with the department heads, made conference calls to most international subsidiaries and firmly stood his ground against the decisions Isabel had taken that he disagreed upon. All to establish that he was back, all he could towards safeguarding Queen Consolidated.

Stubbornly he resisted the urge to get in the elevator whenever he escorted someone there, refusing the compulsion to travel down the eighteen floors that separated them.

Space. He needed to give her space.

Soon, he promised himself as he stared longingly at the closed elevator doors.

********

By lunchtime he knew Diggle was getting impatient.

Oliver had told his friend they would talk later when he had driven him at work this morning, and while the other man usually had the patience of a saint, the visible fidgeting clearly showed he was at the end of it. Twice during the morning hours, Oliver had caught Digg on the phone, carefully not looking his way, betraying it was Felicity on the other end of the line.

The thought brought a soft smile to his face. If she was calling John then she hadn’t given up on him completely. There was still hope. And while Oliver had prepared for the event of there not being any chance she’d hear him out, now that he knew that there was, made him all the more determined to do this right.

After ending the last morning conference call, Oliver stood up and buttoned up his jacket, noticing from the corner of his eye that Diggle straightened up as well.

Without hesitation he strode to the outer office. “I’ll be back in an hour, Mrs. Fitzhughes,” he said, ignoring the disconcerting feeling at the sight of the woman in Felicity’s desk. Glancing at Digg he turned towards the elevators, sure that his friend was following. “Big Belly Burger?”

“I’d say we need it,” was all his friend said.

By unspoken agreement neither of them said anything else until they arrived at the diner. They situated themselves in a booth by the window and ordered after exchanging small talk with Carly.

“So,” Digg brought his hands together on the table.

“So,” Oliver repeated and stared steadily back at him.

“You know what you’re going to do,” came Digg’s as always astute observation.

“Yes,” he paused to take a sip of coffee. “I spent all night thinking about it. Everything.”

“And?”

“It wasn’t easy,” Oliver let out a deep breath searching his mind for a place to start.

“I didn’t think it would be,” Digg said. “What happened, Oliver? You went to her apartment drunk?”

Oliver’s eyes snapped to Digg’s in surprise. He had forgotten that his friend didn’t know about what Tommy told him. Here he was gearing up to explain everything he’d thought about his life and get his friend’s input, when they hadn’t discussed one of the most important factors. So haltingly he told Digg everything Tommy had said. After he was done, Oliver fished his breast pocket for his phone and finding the video, set it down on the table pushing it towards Digg without a word.

Oliver watched the other man’s face as the video went on and mirrored every wince. Soon enough it was over and the phone was silently returned to him. He remained stoic waiting for Digg to pass judgment on what he had seen. Several minutes passed and they only spoke to thank Carly as she set down their food on the table but neither made a move to eat.

“When was this?” was the first thing Diggle asked.

Easy enough to answer. “About three weeks ago. I told you was going to stay in but I didn’t. I headed out after you dropped me off at the mansion.”

“And that worked out great,” Digg said picking up his burger.

“Clearly.”

John looked back at him plainly while he took his time chewing the bite he had taken. After taking a sip of water he finally spoke. “What do you want me to say about it?”

“Usually you’re very vocal about these things.”

“I’ve never been vocal about you and Felicity. I’ve kept all my thoughts to myself and if you ask me I was right to do so.”

“Why?”

“You’re two of the most stubborn, guarded people I know. If I had said anything to either one of you, you’d have pulled away from each other in denial.”

Thinking it over as he started eating, Oliver couldn’t deny the truth of Diggle’s words. Before any of this happened he’d have refused to vocalize his feelings for Felicity no matter who asked him or how insistent they were. Now though, now that everything was out there, the tables had turned. He realized last night that he couldn’t take anything back nor did he want to. Being in love with her had felt like a close guarded secret before; buried deeply inside him never to see the light of day, but now it was the exact opposite.

Hearing himself uttering the words in the video, letting them color the air around him, had been liberating. So much so, that it felt like those three little words had become a tangible thing, an armor covering every inch of his skin. Something to be shown off and not hidden; something to bask in and relish. He could no more shut it away than he could stop breathing. It was now a part of him, and not a deeply hidden one, but something as essential as air or sunlight that he couldn’t shy away from.

So he accepted it.

“How about now? Still nothing to say?” he finally asked his friend, focusing on the present.

“I didn’t say that,” Digg said, balling a napkin and throwing it on the table. “But first, tell me what you’re going to do about what you showed me,” he said, waving towards the cell phone on the table.

“There isn’t a plan. Not exactly.”

“Then what?”

“It’s more of a conviction. I’m done screwing things up,” Oliver said softly, steadily looking back at John, hoping he conveyed his determination in following through on what he said.

Digg simply nodded. “That’s a good objective. How will you get to it?”

“I can’t change who I was in the past no matter what I do.” Oliver laughed hollowly at the thought. “Even when I think I’m done with that part of myself, it comes back to haunt me. I can’t keep rejecting it, hiding from it, ignoring it. So I’m accepting it. No more roles and identities. Just me. Oliver Queen.”

“Does that mean no more…green?” Diggle asked, his eyebrows raised at what he was hearing.

Oliver shook his head slowly. “No. I can’t stop being…green. I can’t stop  _all_  the lies. But I can stop running away from myself. Both who I was before the island and on it. So, if you’re free tomorrow and willing to listen…maybe we can get a drink?”

Oliver held his breath, wondering whether Diggle understood what he was asking. For months his friend had asked him to open up about the island. It was a point of contention between them, and Oliver last night had realized that if he wanted to move forward, if he wanted to be the man he wanted to be, he had to open up. The two parts of him, the playboy and the soldier had to come together.

The silence that followed his stilted suggestion was short lived. “You asking me out, Queen?” Diggle asked, making them both laugh.  They sobered up quickly enough, though a knowing smirk remained on Digg’s face. “Why tomorrow?”

“I have some place to be tonight,” Oliver answered seriously, smiling when his friend nodded.

“Fair enough,” Digg said, throwing money on the table and moving to get up.  “You’re buying tomorrow. We’ll probably need a bottle.”

“Let’s keep it at the mansion then. Neither of us will be fit to drive afterwards.” Oliver tried to make light of it, pushing against the usual reticence that gripped him at the thought of opening up about those five years.

“Just because you threw tomorrow at me doesn’t mean I didn’t notice the subject change,” Digg threw over his shoulder and then held the door for Oliver to pass in front of him.

“I assumed as much.”

“And?” Digg asked, as they walked to the car.

“I’ll try to make it right. Whatever it takes,” Oliver replied seriously, holding his friend’s eyes as he ducked into the car.

Digg said nothing until he was situated in the driver’s seat. “Make sure that you do.” His stare even reflected from the overhead mirror was no less meaningful. A hard, protective stare, not unlike the one Tommy had given him when they’d talked about Felicity. In an instant however it was gone, replaced by a humorous glint. “And so we’re clear, despite all the heart-to-heart shit: We still ain’t dating.”

“Now, you’re just playing hard to get.”

They both smiled, Oliver feeling lighter despite his trepidation about sharing secrets he’d thought he’d never have to.

“What are you going to do to fix it, then?” Diggle asked some time later.

Oliver swallowed heavily and looked out the window at the passing traffic before turning back to meet his friend’s eyes in the mirror. “Anything. Anything I have to.”

*******

That night after hours of internal pep talk and going through scenarios in his head, Oliver braced himself and knocked on Felicity’s door.

She’d probably been expecting him, because it only took a few seconds and there she was in colorful, flannel pyjama bottoms and a t shirt calmly looking back at him.

“Will you be yelling at me this time?” she asked, the small curl of her lips both an olive branch and an ice breaker.

“No,” he said solemnly. Taking a deep breath, he fought against the fear inside him and hoped she wouldn’t close the door on his face. “But I can’t promise I won’t beg again.”


	5. Chapter 5

The tired sigh Felicity let out wasn’t every promising. “You don’t have to beg, Oliver,” she said, stepping back and signaling for him to come in.

Swallowing drily, he walked slowly to the open living area and turned to her, awkwardly standing by the couch. She took her time in closing the door and didn’t look at him at all, until she passed him by as she made her way to the kitchen. The wall separating the living room and kitchen had an open window through which he could see her moving around setting up the coffeemaker. Finally, after the machine started gurgling, she turned to look at him.

Oliver hadn’t thought that this would be easy for either of them. With his determination and feelings as the only weapons in his arsenal, he did think that he had a chance though. The phone calls she had made earlier today to Diggle had given him hope. But now standing in her living room looking on as she maintained a safe distance between them -not to mention a literal fucking wall- made a pit form in his stomach.

“Are you going to stay over there?” he asked, cursing himself at how dejected his voice sounded. He wanted her to forgive him but not pity him. 

 

“Until the coffee’s made, yeah. I think we’ll both need it,” she said, crossing her arms and leaning back against the counter. He didn’t know whether she meant the coffee or the distance. On one hand he wanted no space between them, but he also respected her need for it, so he chose to walk over and sit on one of the high seats just under the pass-through. He looked around the kitchen through the opening, trying to gather his thoughts, but she beat him to the point. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”

“Anything. You can tell me anything. I probably deserve it,” he looked at her steadily, the tension in him mounting as she shook her head.

“That’s the thing, Oliver. You don’t. I’m sorry that I lashed out at you yesterday, because you don’t deserve it. The other guy? Yeah, he did, but I don’t think he’d get the point considering the result of all the times I tried to talk to him,” she sighed and looked away, a sad frown on her face. She was talking about him, the other him: Ollie. “This is such a mess,” she finally sighed before looking back at him with a defeated expression that he instantly hated. “I don’t blame you, because it’s not your fault. You had an accident for Go-“

“Stop. Please,” he interrupted her suddenly. The need to speak, to erase that defeated look from her face and the distance between them was choking him. “It was still me, Felicity. It wasn’t another person for two months. It was still me,” he said slowly, cursing at himself when he saw her looking at her feet. That wasn’t the best opening to what he wanted to say, so he rushed on, “But it was me from seven years ago. I was that guy. The one you were disgusted with.”

“Oliver,” her quiet denial gave him hope, but he squashed it down.

“I was. I used to miss that: being care-free and innocent. I didn’t remember how fucked up I was…just that I didn’t have to kill or lie to survive.”

The coffeemaker beeped, making them both jump in the quiet after his confession. Oliver looked down, folding his hands and placing them on the counter in front of him. A few moments later, two cups of hot coffee appeared next to them. He raised his eyes to watch as Felicity settled on a seat across from him and ignored the disappointment at seeing her keep her distance.  With only inches separating them, they still had a wall between them, and if that wasn’t a fucking good analogy of where they stood, he didn’t know what was, he thought to himself bitterly.

“The point is,” she cut through his thoughts, “you didn’t know what you were doing. And it’s wrong of me to hold it against you. You had no memory of knowing who I was,” her voice clogged, causing the ache in his chest to intensify, “so you couldn’t know that we were friends.”

He fiddled with his cup, looking down as she warmed her hands by wrapping them around hers. “That night I knew,” he said quietly, not looking up when her head shot up but keeping his eyes on her hands, as the tightened around the cup.

He heard her letting out a breath before she spoke bracingly. “I talked to Tommy. He said…you went to see him. It’s okay, you know. We’re okay.”

“No, we’re not.” He forced himself to raise his eyes to hers and keep them there.

She was the one to look away first, the gesture telling him he’d been right in calling her out. Oliver took a deep breath gathering his thoughts, but he started speaking before he knew what he wanted to say, when it occurred to him that she was there, patiently waiting for him to talk when she had every right to kick him out without hearing his excuses. “You’re right. It is a mess,” he told her as her head shot up and her eyes met his. “I said once I’d be here and for the past couple of months I wasn’t. Not in the way that matters. I need you to forgive me for that,” he said, his voice low uncaring about the need that carried through with his voice. “Please,” he added in a whisper.

“But it wasn’t your fault,” she replied, seemingly lost but he could hear the uncertainty, the effort to rationalize the hurt she felt. “I told you. How could you know-“

He cut her off softly. They had to be honest even if neither of them were used to being open about this with each other. “I feel like I should have known, Felicity, and you feel it, too. Somewhere deep down there should have been something holding me back from acting like such a dick.”

The flash of hurt in her eyes showed him he was right in bringing this up no matter how unsure he’d been about whether she’d understand what he was talking about. “If you didn’t remember Digg, why would you remember me?” she asked looking down.

There it was. Now she was calling him out to address the elephant in the room.  There was so much he wanted to say to her before they cleared that up between them, though. So he started with addressing what he’d done.

“I’ve hurt you and there’s nothing okay with that. I started trying to become a better man after the Glades but it was because of you that I believed that I could actually do it. That I wasn’t beyond saving. And now having you look at me like that, like you’ve seen what I was and maybe still am, instead of what I can be…That’s not okay.”

“I still believe in you, Oliver. I – I know who you are.”

“I’d like to think you do. But do you really? Can you believe in me, in the Oliver you know, after having seen ‘Ollie’? Can you look past that and-“ He gulped down the bitterness that he heard in his voice and tried to lower his tone. “I know I’ve asked so much of you. And now I’m asking even more. I hate that all I do is take. Maybe I can’t change from ‘Ollie’. All he did was take.”

Like she’d been waiting for him to trail off, the angry words burst out of her. “You think I can’t see past that?” she asked, grasping at her cup tightly and maybe thinking his words were a passive aggressive ploy, but he couldn’t stay calm anymore. He wasn’t trying to guilt her. This mess had hurt both of them.

“Then why are you still looking at me like I’m him? It’s  _me_. Oliver!” His voice rose, but then lowered to a whisper, the fight having gone out of him. “ _Your_  Oliver.”

Her eyes snapped to the ground, her voice matching his in its low volume. “There was never an Oliver that was mine before. There was just the Arrow,” she smiled weakly before bringing her eyes up to meet his again. “But he  _was_  my hero and I can still see him.”

She wanted to separate herself from him, he realized, deflating after his outburst. Oliver didn’t think this was going to be easy, but the wall she erected between them at his very first approach stung. Nevertheless, he wasn’t about to give up. Gathering his thoughts, his emotions, he took a deep breath and laid it all out before her.

“I can’t remember how it feels  _not_  being yours. It feels like I always was. Or was always waiting for you to claim me and make me  _that_  Oliver. Not the hero, just…who I’m supposed to be.”

And suddenly he saw a small miracle in her eyes. The shift of doubt turning into belief once more. The small spark of affection slowly kindling into a love that he’d missed seeing, even if he had only consciously felt its loss for a day.

In true Felicity manner she got flustered quickly, adorably so. She stalled, taking a sip of coffee and looking at everything other than him, while he breathed out a sigh of relief at having taken the first step towards fixing this.

“I said I’d beg,” he found himself saying suddenly, breaking the familiar, mystifying spell between them.

“What?” she asked confusedly for a moment, before she made the connection in her head. “No, you said you wouldn’t promise not to.”

“Felicity…” he uttered in loving exasperation. That wasn’t the point.

“Well, you did,” she insisted quietly.

“Please, please forgive me.” His tone turned grave again. Appropriately so, he thought to himself, knowing that the most difficult part wasn’t over yet. They might have gotten to a point where that inexplicable understanding was there again, but there were still too many things left unsaid, and he intended to have them all out.

“You know, I was terrified that night,” she began and Oliver’s instincts told him that he shouldn’t interrupt her until she was done. That this was something that had to be said between them. He’d had his time to say some of the things he wanted. Now it was her turn. “Diggle called me to tell me about the accident and all I could think of was ‘Not like this’. I’d worried over a stray bullet, a knife wound, some psychotic person blowing us all up but this? A car accident? Not in the realm of possibilities for me. So I was terrified at first, but then not that surprised when you pulled though. I was relieved and grateful and happy…but not surprised. But then, you lost your memory and as I watched you be… _him_ , I realized I  _had_  lost you. Because that person, he was a stranger. He- he was care-free, yeah, but it was more than that. He was care-free because he  _didn’t care_ enough. Not for anyone else, but not for himself either. That was the saddest part. ‘Ollie’ appeared selfish when what he really did was not care about himself or how self-destructive he was. Because you didn’t think anyone else cared either.”

She appeared lost in thought as she trailed off and Oliver decided he had to say something before she went on. It might break them but he had to let her know.

“A part of me…it’s still there, Felicity. I was him in the past and I dealt with that badly, by drinking, sleeping around. _I_  did those things. But you  _have_  to know. I grew up. And growing up for me meant having to do things that are so, so much worse.” He cleared his throat looking down at his now-cold coffee, until he mustered the nerve to look back at her again. “I thought I’d come to terms with who I was and that I only needed to work on who I’ve become. But now I realize I have to do both. And I need you to see I can be all those things and still be….me. Would you be willing- Can you do that?”

“I-“ she began and then stopped. Oliver’s heart stuttered. She seemed to be considering him carefully and then her eyes fixed on a point somewhere behind him as her mind drifted.

Oliver was sure a ready answer wouldn’t have had the same weight as one thought-out, but he fought not to squirm while waiting for her decision. Minutes passed, during which he allowed the silence to linger and seep into him. If it meant she’d accept him, that she’d have him, he was willing to live in silence for the rest of his life.

But this was Felicity.  _His_  Felicity. And around her silence and darkness didn’t last long.

She focused on him in her own unique way, as if he were a puzzle she was patiently trying to solve. “I never saw you as damaged,” she said quietly. “I know. I mean, I  _guess_  –because you never talk about it unless it’s necessary- that you’ve been through a lot. Too much. I’ll never forget what you said that night: ‘Five years when nothing good happened.’ I’ve seen you go…dark. You know I have. Even then, I never saw you as damaged.” She took a deep breath as if gathering her thoughts before going on.

“You think I’m naïve – everybody does- and that I chose to see only the good in people. I do. But it’s not because I’m naïve. It’s because it’s my choice to do that. I’ve never talked about it but…my life wasn’t the best either. Nothing compared to yours, sure, but…yeah. So, I choose to see the good in people. Maybe then they’ll see it, too. The thing is…I never even had to search to see the good in you. To me, it’s who you are at your core. As for ‘Ollie’ though- I knew it was a mask, a veneer but every time I tried to reach you behind It, you acted as if there was nothing there, as if Ollie was all there was. And then you lashed out and it hurt.” She stopped and Oliver held his breath.

The earnestness on her face made it impossible for him to know whether this was a prelude to her kicking him out or accepting him. All he knew, all he understood was that she meant every word. They were teetering on an edge, he realized. He listened carefully at her every word, knowing the next could either break them or make them, unused to the openness between them but welcoming it nonetheless.

He held his breath as she opened her mouth again. “I got scared then. And the only ones I could tell were Tommy and Digg, but even they couldn’t really understand which scared me even more. That this,” she motioned at the space between them, “was some kind of unidentifiable, un-labeled thing that I couldn’t explain to anyone else. It hurt more than it should if we were just friends and no one got that. I didn’t even know if  _you_  would get that  _before_  the accident. And then you were outside my door drunk…and I was more confused and even more hurt. So when you came, especially after that happened- I lashed out. It was hard meeting who you were before but  _not_  because I saw you differently, but because I could finally have you back. You’d understand the confusion and the mess and maybe help me figure it out.” She paused to swallow and then visibly straightened. “I know who you are and I’ll be here for you no matter what.”

Oliver let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, but didn’t completely relax. “But?” he asked, because it was obvious there was a ‘but’ following her declaration. He thought he knew what it was about however, and was eager –impatient- to appease her fears.

“But,” She cast her eyes down to her hands, clutching the mug once more. “I want to figure this out. That night you said some things besides  _the_  thing…You don’t have to-“

“ _Felicity_ ,” he interrupted her, the urgency that gripped him, echoing in his voice. He waited until her eyes rose to his face and then covered her hands with his, wanting her to understand about that night. “I would never, ever hurt you. Even if I lost all memories of who I am. Please tell me you know that.”

“I know.”

“That’s another thing you need to forgive me for,” he huffed out a bitter breath.

“Tommy showed you? It’s okay-“

“No, it’s not. I acted like I would’ve assaulted you if you had opened that door. You should’ve called the police.”

“Oliver, I knew it was the booze talking,” she cleared her throat nervously. “It’s okay. Let’s pretend it never happened,” she withdrew her hands from under his and awkwardly patted them. Before she stopped touching him, he turned his palms against hers and grabbed them.

“No! I’m sorry for yelling and saying what I did. The way I was that night…it wasn’t about sex, even though it sounded like it at first. What I said after that, though,” he looked deeply into her yes, willing her to understand. “I meant  _that_. I’m not taking it back. I was so lost that night and my brain somehow came up with the one thing I could hold on to: your memory. It wasn’t the booze talking, it wasn’t Ollie saying I love you. It was me. And I’m willing to spend every night outside your door telling you that until you believe me,” he finished, breathing heavily after having said the most important thing he’d come here to say.

She looked surprised. More than that; she looked stunned. Realizing he’d been gripping her hands too hard, he forced his fingers to relax around hers and waited.

Slowly she pulled her hands out of his and stood up, causing a pit to form in Oliver’s stomach. Her expression gave nothing away.

He watched as she disappeared from view for a moment but then she was standing next to him. Swallowing drily, prepared for her to send him away – and already thinking ahead of what else he could do to change her mind- he turned on his seat to face her.

He wasn’t prepared for her to step between his legs or for her hand to cup his cheeks.

“You said it again without the whole verbal sexual assault stuff,” she muttered, a note of wonder entering her voice, as if she had to be close to him, to touch him and look into his eyes in order to believe him. “But, you love Laurel.” She looked forlorn for an instant. “All of you does. Oliver and Ollie.”

“Felicity,” he sighed, watching a stray lock that had escaped her ponytail flutter from his breath. “I told you: I’ve been yours for so long, I’ve forgotten how to be me without you. I love  _you_ ,” he whispered, internally pleading with her to believe him. “You know all of it and you still see me. And all parts of me love you for it. You. No one else.”

He quietly stared at her, opening up in a way he hadn’t before, during all those moments they had shared silently communicating in the past. It was their way of speaking, without words but letting emotions speak through their eyes. Thankfully, it worked once more.

Oliver hoped it always would.

As her lips lowered to his, as his whole body ignited and his existence synced to hers, he knew that ‘always’ was within reach.

Her whispered ‘I love you’ as they lay in bed, hours later told him that maybe ‘always’ had already began. 


End file.
